


Maybe I Could See Him Again

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 2017 has clearly made me no better at tagging, Angst, Drug Use, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9555404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Hello, love. How was your sleep?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written for a while and it definitely isn't my best, but I'm also currently working on two longer fics so stay tuned for that or something.

“Hello, love,” a soft, Irish voice spoke, the breath brushing against Sherlock’s cheek. He opened his eyes to look up at who spoke and found himself staring into a pair of dark orbs. The owner of these was leaning on the detective, heavy but warm and comforting. “How was your sleep?” 

“I-it was good,” Sherlock stuttered, shocked to see the person in front of him. “You’re here, you’re really here.”

“Of course I am; where else would I be?” he smiled, but Sherlock looked stricken, eyes welling up with tears. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” His voice was dripping with worry, and he spoke whilst staring into the other man’s watery, pale eyes.

“I just… I thought you were dead, Jim. I thought you were dead and I never…” he broke off, a sob wrenching its way from his throat. Jim wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly, holding the head crowned with a mop of dark curls to his chest.

“It’s okay Sherlock, it’s okay; I’m here.” He let out another sob, this time muffled by his chest. “I’m here, and whatever you never did… you can do it now.” Sherlock looked up, eyes now red-rimmed.

“Really? Are you _sure_?”

“Of course.”

“Well, what I never got to do… I never told you that- I can’t say it yet.” He paused for a moment, before continuing, “I feel like I’ll say it and you’ll leave, and I don’t want you to leave.” 

“No matter what it is, I won’t leave.”

“I know, I just… can we talk about something _ordinary_? Just say anything that would be classed by others as normal.”

“Ha, that’s definitely the first time you ever asked for something ordinary.” Jim pondered his thoughts for a second before he began to speak once again. “Today I went out for a walk around London, whilst you stayed in performing experiments. I got a coffee, a latte, and walked through the park. I saw a few dogs, one of which was an Irish Setter, the ones you love. He was really cute. I was then going to buy you some flowers, but then you texted me, asking for me to come home.”

“What type of flowers were you going to buy?” Jim sat up a little straighter, still as close to Sherlock but getting into a state of mind for both affection and teaching. It was similar to when they sat on the roof of 221B and he pointed out all the stars and their names to Sherlock, who no longer thought the subject was _completely_ boring. 

“I researched the meanings of different flowers online, so I was going to buy you some… but it’s a little cheesy,” he said, bashful. 

“Just go ahead.”

“Okay. There was going to be honeysuckle, which means bonds of love; yarrow, which means everlasting love; and red roses, which is very traditional and means, as you can probably guess:”

“Love.” Sherlock smiled as he said it.

“Ha, cheesy, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s sweet.” Jim blushed upon hearing this. _He looks so cute right now,_ Sherlock thought, before saying, “I think you should continue telling me what you did today.”

“Alright; so we got up to the point where you had texted me to come home. I rushed home, thinking something bad might have happened with your experiments. As usual, you had called me home for a ridiculous reason. It was just to cuddle, and it may have been an awkward interruption, but I certainly wasn’t averse to cuddling for a while. And now we’re here, cuddling together whilst I tell you all about the meanings of different flowers.” 

“It’s surreal, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” They both sat there in a companionable silence for a moment, before Sherlock began to speak.

“I think I want to say it now.” He looked up into dark brown orbs, staring deep into them. “Jim, I never told you that… I love you.” They both smiled at each other.

“I love you too, Sherlock. I love you so much.” He placed his hand on Sherlock’s cheek tenderly. “But Sherlock…”

“What?”

“This isn’t real.” 

“Jim, what do you mean? You’re here, you’re with me; of course you’re real.”

“Sherlock, I’m not real. I’m dead.” His eyes sparkled with tears. “You’re hallucinating. I’ve been dead for years.”

“No, no, no,” Sherlock repeated, trying to sit up. His arms collapsed under his weight as he tried to rise, causing him to fall back down onto the sofa. “You must be real. You _have_ to be!”

“Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes.” 

“Don’t leave! Jim, please don’t!” He tried to clutch the hand caressing his face, but it was no longer there.

“I love you,” he whispered, as his form slowly faded away. Sherlock felt tears beginning to run down his face, the room darkening around him. He could feel something sticking out of his arm; a needle. He wrenched it out, before reaching for the mix of drugs he was using. He knew the dangers of mixing drugs like this but didn’t care about living so much anymore. He prepared the syringe before he injected more drugs into his bloodstream.

_Maybe I can see him again._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave kudos or a comment, and I hope you have a nice day!


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